


To Crush a Spider

by Servant_of_Dormammu



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Beating, Blood, Broken Bones, Death, Face-Fucking, Fisk is evil, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Necrophilia, Peter is 15, Punching, Rape, Violence, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servant_of_Dormammu/pseuds/Servant_of_Dormammu
Summary: Peter catches the attention of someone he soon wishes he hadn't.
Relationships: Wilson Fisk/Peter Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	To Crush a Spider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skyjoos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyjoos/gifts).



> This is a dark fic. Triggering content. Heed the tags. Don't read them, ignore them, read the fic anyway, and then complain about the content.

When Peter Parker refused Tony Stark's offer to become a full-fledged Avenger, he had a clear mission. He was going to use his powers to help the people of his city. Not the whole of New York, but he could at least look after the borough of Queens. By day he was just an ordinary student, nephew, and friend. But by night, he was a masked crime-fighter, stopping petty muggings or ATM robberies. A vigilante, taking the law into his own hands, which, given that he'd spent so much money buying cops and expanding his operation into Queens, was something Wilson Fisk could not abide. 

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was making things difficult for Fisk, but he knew that if he was strategic and spread his reach, Daredevil could only do so much to hinder him. At first, Fisk didn't take Spider-Man seriously. After all, given his size, Fisk knew that he was young. And given that he was taking down petty criminals, he was almost certain that his skills would be no match for Fisk and his far-reaching criminal enterprise. Besides, Fisk had postured himself in such a way that he was a pillar of the community. People trusted him. Hell, they adored him. If another masked coward tried to bring him down, the people would surely turn against the wall-crawler. Fisk had already enlisted the help of JJ Jameson and the Daily Bugle to spin the narrative in the city against vigilantes, to great effect. It kept the pressure on Spider-Man, making it almost impossible to act without drawing the attention of the police, who had warrants out for Spider-Man's arrest. 

Of course, Peter had no idea that anyone besides Jameson himself was behind the smear campaign against him. The fact of the matter was that Peter was in way over his head, and he had no idea. He would never see it coming when Fisk finally decided to spring his trap. It took Fisk a few months to maneuver his way into Queens. He promised to improve conditions in the neighborhood and started by spending millions of his personal funds to build a homeless shelter. And just like that, he was adored. People loved him. Hell, he even got a shining endorsement from Tony Stark himself. And the people were blissfully ignorant to Fisk's long-game. They had no idea that he was using the shelter to smuggle drugs, weapons, stolen art, and more into and out of Queens. 

But Peter noticed something. He wasn't sure what, but something had changed in the city. Of course, he was just as fooled as the rest of them. He just thought that the sudden uptick in crime came from opportunistic criminals trying to turn a quick profit by stealing from a wealthy philanthropist. Yes, even Peter trusted Fisk to a fault. And that was how Fisk knew it was time to strike. He'd planned the whole thing down to the smallest detail. He picked the vehicles. He decided how fast they'd be going when the armored truck crashed into Fisk's vehicle. The crash had to be big enough to alert Spidey to the danger. Fisk even got volunteers to die for the cause, to really sell the idea that Fisk's own life was in danger. So, when a seemingly dazed and terrified Fisk was being dragged out of the wreckage by the goons who crashed into him, Spider-Man believed it was a legitimate kidnapping attempt. Of course, that's exactly what it was, but Fisk was not the victim. Peter was. But he'd only realize it when it was too late. 

Peter didn't remember anything, but the back of his head was throbbing. The teenager's enhanced senses made the concussion caused by Fisk's fist impair his ability to think straight. It took a few minutes for Peter to become aware of his situation. He couldn't tell where he was. It was too dark. It was cold, too, but the air was still. There was no wind, no breeze. He was inside. Peter's hands were bound behind him, and his ankles were handcuffed to the metal chair he was sitting in. He was so confused. The last thing he remembered, he'd swung in, webbed up the bad guys, and rescued Fisk. None of this made any sense. 

Peter's eyes were still having trouble adjusting to the darkness. And his suit's night-vision wasn't functioning. In fact, much of his suit's functionality had failed. As the reality set in, Peter began to panic. He could hear his heartbeat accelerating and as he finally regained some control of his faculties, he started to struggle against his bonds. 

"Hello?!" He shouted as he tugged against the handcuffs. "Somebody help me! Let me out!" There was no answer. "Anybody?! Help me!" 

How stupid, Fisk thought. Here he was, captured, and he seemed to believe that anyone within earshot would be interested in letting him out. 

Fisk let this go on only a few moments longer before his menacing, baritone voice finally gave Peter a response. "Nobody is coming," Fisk said. The room was still pitch-black. Peter might as well have been blind, completely unable to see. 

"What?! Who's there?!" the frightened teen asked as he looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. 

That's when the lights came on Bright construction lamps were situated about a yard away from Peter, shining their bright light directly onto him. Whereas before he couldn't see because of the pure dark, now Peter was blinded by the light and he began to struggle more. 

"Tell me, how long did you think I'd let you get away with interfering with my business before there were consequences?" Fisk asked, standing behind the light, so when Peter's eyes finally became acclimated, all he could see was Fisk's head, the rest of his body still shrouded in darkness.

"Mr. Fisk? Please, please help me! I don't understand!" Peter begged. 

"It's really not that hard, Mr. Parker," Fisk said. Peter's struggling stopped and his body went frigid. He was still wearing his mask. How could Fisk possibly have known?

"You see, Peter..." Fisk started as he took a menacing step forward. "...When I go hunting, I take my time and learn everything I can about my prey. My men have been following you for weeks. You don't still think it was something as random as mere coincidence that that brought you to me so flawlessly tonight, do you?" Fisk could go on and on about how he had men break into his room while he was out hanging out with Ned and put hidden cameras all over his room so he could observe Peter's daily routines. Or how his mailman had been replaced by one of Fisk's men, who had been following Aunt May. Or the fact that his newest schoolboy crush's body was currently wrapped up in a tarp in the next room. But he decided to hold onto those little secrets for now. 

"W-what do you want? Why are you doing this?!" Peter's tone was more demanding now, but he was still petrified. 

"What do I want? I want to conduct my business in peace. I want to help this city. In order to do that, I need to eliminate any threats to my enterprise. Spider-Man, Peter, is among my greatest threats. And he's interfered with my business for the last time." 

Peter resumed his struggles, trying his hardest to rip the chains off the handcuffs. If he could just do that, he was sure he could take Fisk. After all, he was just a man. Had he not had the element of surprise, he never would have been able to capture Peter in the first place. Peter closed his eyes, thinking back to that moment after Toomes had collapsed that warehouse on him, trying to muster that same strength again. Fisk watched with an amused smirk as the chains began to stretch and suddenly, they broke. Peter lunged forward to remove the cuffs on his ankles, but before he could manage to get free, Fisk tackled Peter, knocking the chair back with Fisk's hands pinning Peter's wrists to the ground above his head. 

"I've been watching you, with great interest, Peter. I've been watching you look at her. And watching you watch pornography. You want to do those things with her, don't you Peter?" He asked. His weight and brute strength was enough to keep Peter pinned, even as his muscles strained as he fought against Fisk, who just kept taunting him. "I remember what it was like, Peter. To be your age. To fall in love for the first time. You can't imagine anyone else doing with her the things you watch people do in those videos. Only you. She deserved to know what it was like. To be intimate with someone like you, who really cared about her. I'm sorry to say my men didn't care about her as you would have, but they didn't want her to die without experiencing one of life's greatest pleasures." Fisk said, smiling down at Peter. "And I don't think you should die without experiencing it, either." 

Peter stopped fighting, his body going limp at the realization that, if Fisk was telling the truth, he'd had his men rape and murder MJ. Fisk took the moment of weakness and shock in Peter to let go of one of his wrists and gently pull Peter's mask from his head. Underneath, tears were running down Peter's cheeks, but his face was bright red with anger. 

"There he is. How very handsome. So beautiful when you cry." Fisk said as he stood, leaving the demoralized Peter laying on his back, his legs still cuffed to the legs of the chair. "My beloved, Vanessa, thinks I should let you go. Force you to live on knowing what your interference has cost you. But that's because she doesn't understand. If someone took from me what I have already taken from you, I would stop at nothing to hunt them down and destroy them, and no amount of bullets or bombs or superheroes on earth would be able to stop me. So, if I let you go, I know you'll come for me." Fisk stood, standing tall over Peter, looking down at him. 

That's when the second realization came to Peter. Fisk meant to either keep him locked in this room, which, as Peter looked around had no visible windows or doors of any kind, or he planned to kill him. But while Fisk was making him big, evil speech, Peter had been coming up with a plan. His hands, and his web shooters, were now free. He waited for Fisk to take another step toward him, close enough for Peter to get a good look, and he fired one shot of his webs aimed right at Fisk's face. The man rose his arms in an "X" shape to shield his face from the attack, and his arms were now the ones that were bound. He pulled and pulled as hard as he could, and smaller strands of the webs were beginning to give way and snap, but not enough to free himself. 

Peter seized his chance to finally free his legs. He rolled out of the chair and climbed to his feet just in time. 

"AHHHHHHHHH!" With a scream, Fist pulled his arms apart and the webbing snapped, free to prevent Peter from escaping or worse, actually beating him. Unable to see a clear way out, Peter rushed Fisk. He lept into the air, aiming a swift kick to Fisk's head. 

"NO!" Fisk shouted as he once again was able to interrupt Peter's attack. He grabbed Peter's ankle with one hand, his other hand taking Peter by the neck, catching the teen in midair. He rises Peter high above his head, and then with all his strength, slammed him onto the concrete floor. 

The room filled with a loud thud as Peter's body hit the floor with massive force. Before he could even begin to react or recover, Fisk gripped Peter by the hair and pulled him up until he was on his knees. Fisk punched Peter's face, knocking him back down. While he was down, Fisk landed not one, but three brutal kicks to Peter's abdomen. He heard that unmistakable sound of at least two of Peter's ribs cracking from the force. Fisk lifted his leg and stomped down on Peter's stomach in a blow that knocked the wind right out of him and left him a sobbing mess, gripping at his abs, desperately wanting the pain to end. While Peter writhed on the ground, Fisk unclasped his belt and the button of his pants. He walked back toward Peter, who was trying in vain to crawl away.

Peter got as far as to the edge of the dimly lit room before Fisk took a handful of his hair and turned him, so he had his back to the concrete wall. But this time, rather than punch him again, Fisk reached down and let his erection out of his pants. To be honest, Fisk's cock was probably about average in size, but to Peter, it was as terrifying as any threat he'd been faced with before. It was about five inches long, but it was thick and throbbing so hard Peter was almost convinced he could see the blood flowing through the vein. At the tip was a large, mushroom-shaped head, wider than the rest of it that was already leaking precum.   
He didn't give any instructions, just sat there, pressing the tip against Peter's cheek and his lips, smearing his precum against the face of the teen. When Peter refused to open his mouth, the hand gripping Peter's hair slammed his head back against the wall until finally Peter's mouth opened and Fisk, not one to wait for permission, bucked his hips forward. Almost instantly, Peter bit down, eliciting a yelp from Fisk who retracted his cock from Peter's unwilling mouth and landed another punch to Peter's cheek, breaking the skin and putting a deep cut on his face. 

Fisk remained undeterred. Both hands gripped Peter by the back of his head as he shoved his cock back down Peter's mouth. "Try that again, Peter, and your Aunt becomes the next person your actions hurt." Fisk knew that Peter would probably rather be dead than going through this right now, so he knew that threatening Peter's loved ones was the way to force his compliance. "That's better," Fisk said. Peter was still struggling to get away but being pinned down by a man like Fisk was not something so easily overcome. But he didn't bite down again. Wilson forced his cock in as deep as he could until Peter's face was pressed against the man's hairy, sweaty stomach. He was gagging and coughing around Fisk's cock as the man started pumping his hips, his cock just long enough to poke at Peter's throat.   
Peter didn't know how long he could handle this. His face was getting red as he choked and gagged until finally, he retched, saliva and bile and Fisk's precum started pouring out of Peter's mouth, smearing against Fisk's body and Peter's own face. But Fisk didn't stop. No, not even as Peter puked on himself the second, third, and fourth times. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as Fisk continued to mercilessly rape Peter's mouth Finally, in what Peter hoped was a moment of mercy, Fisk pulled his cock from Peter's warm mouth, but only so that he could get a clear view of Peter's sloppy, messy face so that he could spit on it.

"Somehow, Peter. Somehow you are even more beautiful like this." Fisk said as he took a few steps back, admiring his handiwork. Peter leaned over, spitting what he could of the taste of Fisk's cock and his own vomit onto the ground. Fisk wanted to savor the moment, so he stood there, his throbbing cock leaking so much that there was a strand of precum hanging so low from the tip of his cock that it nearly touched the ground before dripping off. 

Peter stood again, defiantly. He took a defensive position, seemingly prepared to fight back. A grin of approval was present of Fisk's face. He was rather enjoying having a punching bag that could fight back. The two charged at one another, each one landing a few good blows against the other. Fisk made sure to grip Peter's wrists and render his web shooters non-functional, which Peter countered with a swift uppercut that sent Fist staggering back. Fisk charged again, which Peter dodged, flipping over the man whose momentum sent him slamming into the wall. The impact put a dent in the wall, which exposed the door that had previously been invisible due to how it was seamless with the room's walls. 

"This is it!" Peter thought. He saw his chance to escape. It was now or never. 

"Hey, big guy! Over here!" Peter shouted as he jumped up, sticking to the unlit ceiling, crawling in the darkness above Fisk. Fisk looked up, unable to see in the dark room, until Peter jumped down on the opposite side of the room. 

"Is that all you've got, Fisk?" Peter asked, taunting the man.

Fisk's face was bright with rage as he came barreling toward Peter, who jumped up above his attack yet again. 

"So quick to jokes, Peter? Don't forget, your girlfriend experienced 'all I've got' and soon you will too." Like an offensive lineman heading for a quarterback, Fisk bolted for Peter. For the third time in a row, Fisk missed. He slammed into the door again, just like Peter set him up to do, and this time the door broke wide open. And as Fisk was trying to stand, Peter bolted, hopping over the bull of a man to make his escape. All he had to do was find a stairwell. 

But before he could even manage to make his way five steps out of the room where he was held captive, something stopped him. Fisk's hand wrapped around Peter's ankle and pulled him, making Peter trip. Fisk stood over him and stomped on Peter again, but this time not on his stomach, but his ankle. It snapped, and Peter let out a blood-curdling scream. Fisk was in a blind rage, having suffered the humiliation of being outwitted by a teenager. But Fisk had no plans to let Peter be victorious. Peter was face down, trying to crawl, hoping that he might just be able to limp away, but he had no such luck.   
  
Fisk grabbed the back of Peter's suit and tore it and continued to rip and pull at it until Peter was naked. Fisk didn't have any more speeches. No more monologues. Only action. He climbed down on top of Peter and with no warning and no preparation, pressed his thick, wide, mushroom-headed cock against Peter's virgin hole. He let his weight do the rest, letting the pressure mount. Peter screamed out at the feeling of Fisk's cock against his hole. He clenched his muscles tight to prevent Fisk's penetration, but all he did was make it more painful for himself. Fisk was determined now to rape the young hero. To take what little Peter had left. And finally, when Peter was no longer able to prevent Fisk's cock from giving way, his assailant got his way.   
  
First, it was just the head of his cock. Peter was still putting up a good fight. But once Fisk was in, it was only a matter of time. He gripped Peter's hips and pulled the small boy back as hard as he could just as Fisk himself thrust forward, pulling Peter onto his five thick inches. Peter threw his head back with a scream, his cracking voice echoing through the room. Fisk ripped his cock from the teenager before pulling Peter back onto him with another brutal thrust.

Peter was desperate. He needed to get out. To get away. He knew if he could contact Tony or get above ground where his suit could send a distress signal, he's safe and Fisk would be taken down. He mustered every last bit of strength he had left to ignore the fact that he was being raped and strike a blow to Fisk, rather than just thrashing beneath him. Peter turned as much as he could, slamming his elbow into Fisk's face. Peter hoped his blow would be enough to stagger the heavy older man. But all it did was piss Fisk off. He gripped Peter's broken ankle and twisted, sending a sharp pain shooting through Peter's entire body. Fisk then unceremoniously flipped Peter onto his back, pulled his legs apart, and started fucking him again, his fat stomach brushing against Peter's abs as he violated the young man.   
  
Fisk was in a rage. He didn't stop at just raping Peter. He started punching him, too. A few blows to his chest and then to his face. Peter knew he could take those. His only chance now, he thought, was to let Fisk tire himself out. But then it happened. The blow that would soon seal Peter's fate. As he violently fucked Peter in his blind rage, Fisk let go and started pounding on Peter, letting out an enraged shout. He gave Peter everything he had, including one swift, powerful punch to Peter's throat. The fifteen-year-old hero's eyes bulged, and his face went bright red as he gasped for air. Air that wasn't coming. He reached to put his hands around his throat, unable to breathe. His lungs tried desperately, but Fisk's punch had crushed Peter's windpipe. Peter's face was getting blue as he turned his body in another pathetic, desperate attempt to crawl away, but Fisk just kept fucking him without mercy. This, after all, was the moment he'd been working toward the whole time. The moment where the threat of Spider-Man was permanently eliminated. 

  
Peter's face went purple and blood began dripping from the edges of his lips as Fisk just kept fucking. Harder and harder. Even as Peter went limp, the lights leaving his eyes, Fisk didn't stop. He kept fucking into Peter's body just a few more seconds until he finally shot his load deep inside his victim. Rope after rope of cum deposited inside of Peter, but his lifeless body had no reaction. Fisk stood and pulled his pants on right over his spent cock, acting as though nothing happened. Within moments, he was surrounded by his bodyguards and his "fixers."   


"Clean this mess up. Stage a crime scene. Do what you have to do to pin this on the Daredevil." he said. 

"Yes, Mr. Fisk." one of the men said.

"Call me 'Kingpin.'" Fisk replied.

Fisk looked down at the body of his former foe. "Tell my love to find an appropriate dress. We'll be attending a funeral soon," he said. He smiled at Peter. "Don't worry, Mr. Parker. I'll make this city love you again. And then they'll love me for bringing to justice the vigilante who killed you." Fisk straightened his tie, walking to the elevator with bodyguards flanking him on both sides. He turned, taking one last look at his work with a mischievous grin as the doors closed. Spider-Man would trouble him no more.


End file.
